


Simple

by karuvapatta



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Dubious Consent, Frigga Lives, Illusions, King Thor, LOKI'S CORONATION, Loki's Punishments, M/M, Post-Canon, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2015-12-06
Packaged: 2018-05-05 06:42:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5365223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karuvapatta/pseuds/karuvapatta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thor sees something that doesn't belong in Loki's cell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Simple

In retrospect, he shouldn’t have looked.

Leisure time is sparse ever since his ascension, and when it comes, Thor catches himself wondering what Loki is up to. It has been years since his imprisonment and he hasn’t yet tried to escape. Which might mean that he’s playing a long game of some sort, but it can’t hurt to check.

He sees things that don’t belong in Loki’s cell – vast landscapes, events that never happened, people that should not be there. Gungnir hums softly at the presence of magic, recognizing Loki’s illusions.

The visions are sickening, at first. First time, Thor sees himself, defeated and brought to his knees before Loki’s sneering face. It’s clearly a favourite scene, repeating itself over and over with different outcomes. Sometimes Loki magnanimously grants him mercy. Sometimes he slays him on the spot.

But then, another time, it’s Loki’s lifeless body lying on the floor. Thor flinches at the sight; it’s not the first he has seen of Loki pretending to be dead, and yet it hurts the same.

Once, he sees them both engaged in battle. He has to admire the sheer scope of Loki’s imagination: every detail is perfectly crafted, down to the snowflakes peppering Thor’s cape and the crunch of snow beneath their feet. They’re both quick and agile, matched in experience if not actual strength. Thor has the obvious edge there, and his eventual victory makes him preen. Even more so when Loki collapses on the ground before him, bowing his head.

When the illusion fades, Loki rises to his feet and wipes invisible dust from the fabric of his trousers. There’s a look of open disgust on his face that has Thor turn away from him for weeks.

Next time, he steals a glance between two council meetings. Worry for Loki is still present in the back of his head; or, rather, worry of what me might do.

But there are no plans, no dark schemes meant to overthrow Asgard; there’s just Thor, Mjolnir in hand, slaying a Jotun barely taller than he is.

Moments before the hammer descends, Thor sees the Jotun’s face, and Loki’s features etched into frost-blue. But then there’s just blood.

He doesn’t look back for months.

***

Odin and Frigga – Allfather and Allmother; Thor is King now, but they remain such for Asgard and her people – have taken residence far in the mountains overlooking the Realm. It’s a place of quiet contemplation and peace, long denied to his parents, and Thor feels his heart swell whenever he enters their sanctuary.

They discuss matters of state in Mother’s garden, over mead and dinner. The view is particularly lovely here, and the atmosphere between them remains pleasant, relaxed.

Until Mother sets down her cup and, asks, slowly, “What of Loki?”

Thor doesn’t know how to answer. He grants her the right for an audience whenever she asks for it, but what should he say? That he never set foot in the dungeon himself? He knows she’d be disappointed to hear that, and yet can’t bring himself to lie to her.

***

What of Loki, indeed?

Thor sees other visions now: memories of their shared childhood, back when they still played and laughed together. Their adolescent adventures, recreated in much greater detail. Impossible futures, in which they work side by side, or with Loki alone on the throne, with Gungnir and Mjolnir and all the glory he has ever desired. Dreams of Thor coming to visit him, save him from his cell. In a way, they’re even worse than the horrors from before, as Loki takes more and more time to wake up from them.

Once, Thor sees a different image altogether: of Loki naked in his embrace. Dream-Thor’s hands caress his skin, their lips seeking each other, their bodies moving in perfect synchrony.

He must blush like a maiden all through the evening meal. Fandral can’t resist commenting on it.

***

One night, Thor steps through the shimmering barrier and enters Loki’s cell. He says nothing, and neither does Loki; it would be pointless, after all.

Loki blinks at him, mouth stretching into a smile. His hands grasp Thor’s tunic and pull him down onto the prisoner’s cot, lips vicious in their attack, soft and warm and damp; he wraps his legs around Thor’s waist, pulling himself up, up.

Thor holds him down and rips away the threadbare green fabric. Loki’s pulse beats against his lips, and a loud moan echoes around the cell when Thor bites his neck. His skin tastes of sweat and something wild, unspeakable; or maybe it’s just the fingernails digging into Thor’s arms.

It’s too easy to undress them both, kiss every inch of Loki, bite his hipbones, thighs, lick his hard cock; he’s beautiful, panting and moaning, screaming unintelligible things when Thor’s tongue finds his hole.

Thor enters him, frantic with his need, sinking easily into Loki’s willing body. He does not remember it beings this hot, this tight; and tells Loki so, with rough voice and trembling hands. They don’t even last long, either of them, violent and careless, Loki trashing beneath him and Thor fucking with all his might. Loki comes with his fingers wrapped into Thor’s hair, his wicked mouth whispering filthy, horrible things. Every last use Thor could have for his body, begging to be used, abused, discarded, like the piece of trash he is, selfish and greedy, monstrous; unworthy of Thor, his love, his trust; always,  _always_ unworthy.

Thor comes moments later, with a bitter confession on his tongue, his seed spilling inside Loki.

Afterwards they lay tangled and sweaty, breathing each other in, the mess they made cooling on their skin. Loki smiles at him, sardonic and a little sad, with his bright eyes and black hair, looking nothing like the Jotun Thor murdered in his vision.

Thor leans over and kisses him, and says, “Brother. Come back to me.”

“No,” Loki says coldly. “But you might want to ask again.”

Thor asks, again and again. Every night.

***

The madness lasts way too long. Loki always watches him leave with a sad, knowing smile, dispelling him as if he would an illusion. Probably believes him to be one, too.

Frigga is the one Thor seeks out, her counsel and compassion being what Loki needs the most. Asks her, “Help him.”

And she does. In the end it really is that simple.


End file.
